


two pints and a heart-shaped spoon

by Skyuni123



Category: Ant-Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, Ice Cream, M/M, always a baskin robbins worker au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:08:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24910585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyuni123/pseuds/Skyuni123
Summary: scott wiles away his days at baskin robbins. his life is rocked when steve rogers, quite literally, runs into his life.-the fluffiest of fluff fics. there's enough darkness in the world.
Relationships: Scott Lang/Steve Rogers
Comments: 5
Kudos: 29





	two pints and a heart-shaped spoon

So, Scott gets out of jail.

That’s fine, right?

He’s got a masters degree, he can use his brain, he’ll be able to find somewhere that’ll give him a job and he’ll work his way up eventually. 

It’ll be easy.

It’s not. 

(You know what’s easy? Rolling scoops at Baskin Robbins. Which is where he ends up.) 

Look, a life of crime - he could do it. He’s sure he could. He could be the next supervillain the Avengers fight if he just put his mind to it.

But the thing is? He kinda wants to go straight.

(Obviously not  _ straight _ straight, that’d be fundamentally against the roots of his being, but not-being-a-full-time-criminal straight. That straight.) 

Jail was fine. He’s a guy who knows how to fight, he’s white, and he looks straight. He’s well aware that he could have been significantly worse off.

But he doesn’t want to go back.

He wants to be a dad to Cassie. He wants to smell the fresh air, occasionally. 

He wants to live in this weird new world, rather than just exist in it.

  
  


So he works for Baskin-Robbins. 

And hey, it’s not the best job, but the customers aren’t dicks, and he likes ice cream, so it could be worse.

It’s 8.30am. On a Monday. 

The store’s not open yet, technically, but Scott’s always a little bit lenient to the kids who pop in before school.

(Yes, yes - he’s selling them ice cream at 8.30 in the morning, but he’s only selling the no-sugar stuff. That feels a little less morally bereft.)

He’s dipping a sample stick into a tub of one of their new flavours - Widow’s Web - it’s like dark chocolate with a raspberry ripple, all for the Black Widow - and honestly, he’s kinda into it, when there’s a knocking at the window.

He looks up, stick halfway in his mouth, to see Steve Rogers waving at him from outside the door.

Steve Rogers.  _ The  _ Steve Rogers.

Fought Nazis frozen in ice came back to life one of the hottest and kindest men on the planet had his reputation dragged through the mud but still a decent guy Steve Rogers.

Scott feels a little like he might pass out. Or throw up. But like, in a good way? This whole thing is very perplexing and he might just be on the verge of a panic attack.

Steve is staring him down, smiling broadly, and saying something. 

Scott cannot hear him, as he is not a supersoldier, or even a superhero, and he doesn’t have ears that can hear like, a cat’s meow from six miles away.

He unlocks the door.

“Hi.” Steve says, and good lord, his voice is somehow more patriotic in person. “I was wondering-”

Scott takes a moment to bite down on the sample stick. Which is still in his mouth. He winces, and it cracks. Hmm. Not great. He removes it, tucks it in his back pocket, and tries to brush the whole thing off. It only partially works.

“Uh.”

“Very sorry about my general. Uh. This?” Scott flusters, opening the door and beckoning Steve in. “You can come in, by the way. I’m pretty sure you’re not going to jump me or anything.”

He narrowly manages to not trip over his own feet, which he’s vaguely proud of. Good Scott, well-balanced Scott, didn’t humiliate self in front of Steve Rogers. Good. Fine. Okay.

He takes a breath, and turns around. “Sorry, like it’s great to have you in my store - I am absolutely not upset about that, no sirree, but why are you here?”

“Carbs.” Steve says, and he doesn’t look ashamed. “I burn up… a lot. Doing anything, and I’ve not been home in a bit, and I’m- can I grab six pints of…”

“Star Spangled Banner?” Scott says, in a way that’s far too cheerful. 

Steve wrinkles his nose.

It’s actually kinda adorable.

“Preferably not.” He replies. “I… uh… don’t really enjoy staring myself in the face at this time of the morning. Or ever.”

_ With a face like that, he’d never look away  _ \- Scott thinks, wildly, and thankfully doesn’t vocalise it.

“If it’s not too much trouble, can I have six pints of Merry Berry?” Steve asks, looking a bit sheepish. 

“That is… not what I was expecting, but absolutely!” Scott chirps. God, he needs to turn it down a little. Why is he so chipper? It’s like Steve exudes energy from his pores.

(For all he knows, Steve  _ does. _ )

Scott turns around, pulls open one of the large freezers behind him and has to bend right in to reach the box of Merry Berry, which no-one ever buys, and is right at the bottom of the freezer. He’s definitely not doing it this way to show off his ass. Absolutely not.

“What kind of ice cream would you expect me to buy?” Steve asks, dryly, from somewhere behind him.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Scott says, his voice definitely muffled from within the freezer. It’s not like it matters, though, Steve’s a literal superhuman. “Something with kale?”

Steve snorts. “I hate kale.”

Scott emerges from the freezer, six pints of Merry Berry in his hands. He just manages to put them on the counter without them falling everywhere, which is very good of him. He’s actually quite balanced when he puts his mind to it. “No. Really?”

Steve’s cheeks are a bit pink. It’s very endearing. “Yes. I know I - well, pre-Accords me - did a whole bunch of healthy eating PSAs - but kale is unsalvageable.”

“Here, here.” Scott says, and holds his hand out for a fist bump. It’s a reflex, but Steve balls his hand into a fist and does it back.

They gently touch knuckles, and Scott definitely,  _ absolutely  _ doesn’t blush. 

“How much?” Steve asks, gesturing at the ice cream.

“Oh, it’s on the house.” Scott replies, because despite the fact that the media hates Captain America, Scott never will. Plus, he’s almost a manager. He gets to make these decisions.

“Absolutely not.” Steve says, firmly. He passes over a fifty. “Keep the change for yourself.” 

“You don’t have to-” Scott starts, but Steve interrupts him.

“I insist.” He gathers the ice cream in one arm. “You’re a lifesaver, uh-” 

Scott’s not wearing his name badge. It’s too early for that. “Scott. Scott Lang. But you can call me Scott.”

_ Why  _ is he like this. 

“Scott.” Steve smiles. “You’re a lifesaver. Honestly. I’ll be seeing you.”

And with that, he jogs off out of the shop and out of Scott’s life.

Or, so Scott thinks. 

(The universe has other plans.) 

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up on the [ tumblr ](http://eph-em-era.tumblr.com) for more nonsense


End file.
